Subhajit

I speak my mind. I hate pseudo-intellects. Oh God, they are everywhere. All around. They strangulate me. I am counting my share of oxygen. I had one-fourth promise of staying with you. But who belonged to whom? Nothing is permanent. Expectations reduces joy. They are temporary. We have put a price tag for everything in life. The price of life has become nothing. The sweet nothings describes you. You all define me. The definition is subjective. Every subject is hapless at the hands of administrators today. Helplessness, many times, ignited movements. Movements are what we get inspired from. Inspiration is what we long for, inspiration is what we want to be. Longing has been a key element of my survival. Elements of hope, nostalgia is what makes me stay grounded. I seek contentment. I find it costly which I can not afford. Expectations are permanent, disappointments are temporary. I write my life. I describe events. Words are healing. All scars are mine. I am proud of them. I cry for pe